New York Crime Kings Box Set: Books 1-4 Read Online Free
Author: Skyla Madi
ass? I followed you from a train at one a.m. to fix my tablet because I can’t afford it. It only costs one hundred dollars to fix a busted tablet screen and if I can’t afford that, what makes you think I can afford ten thousand dollars?”
“Because down here, you have the opportunity to win up to eighty thousand tax-free dollars.”
My ears prick up. Eighty thousand tax-free dollars? He leans in close until the earthy, intoxicating scent of his cologne is the only thing I smell. I never noticed it before, but now it’s over-powering—arousing, even. It seems all this talk about tax-free money is warping my priorities and making my thighs tingle. The dimly lit tunnel we’re standing in doesn’t scare me anymore. Instead, a slither of excitement coils around my spine. With eighty thousand dollars, I can haul my ass to Italy and never look back. I’ve always wanted to move to Italy, maybe work at a petite wood-fire pizza place and live in a small cottage made of stone. Sitting on my porch, I would overlook a vast vineyard while I sucked on feta stuffed olives and drank wine. Yeah, that’s the life I want.
“How?” I ask, suddenly a little eager to venture further underground. “How do you win eighty thousand dollars?”
Stone’s blue eyes brighten and the ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Money hungry, Kitten?”
I scowl, but I’m not about to deny it. If there’s a chance I can make my life a little easier, I’m not going to say no. “I’m starved, and stop calling me Kitten. It’s not my name.”
His slight smirk pulls wide and wolfish before he straightens his shoulders and disappears into the dark tunnel ahead. I wait for a few seconds, expecting him to tell me how to win the money, but he doesn’t. That’s when I realize he isn’t going to wait for me, either, and I jolt into action. I grab my bag and hug it close to my chest. Fear makes a quick reappearance. It twists my stomach and threatens to drag it south at a moment’s notice. I move swiftly and follow his movements, keeping my head low enough to graze the network of pipes above me. Eventually, above the smell of mold and dirt, I smell his cologne and I relax at the thought of having him close.
“There’s a low concrete edge here. Be—”
The concrete edge he’s talking about introduces itself to the top of my skull with an echoing thud. I dip low and rub at my forehead, gritting my teeth to ease the ache.
“Ow,” I snap in a hushed whisper.
“I told you there was a concrete edge,” Stone states, his voice filled with husky laughter. Asshole. “How hard did you hit it?”
I brush the tips of my fingers over the front of my pulsing skull. “I hit it pretty hard, but not enough to leave a bump, I hope.”
I have enough issues with my appearance as it is. I don’t need an egg on the middle of my head to make me feel worse. I’m not bad looking, not really, just…plain. I’ve never colored my hair and I don’t wear make-up. My eyes are a light brown, my lashes are short and my nose is a little on the pointy side. If I had more than eighty thousand dollars, maybe I’d look into new facial features or accentuating some of my strengths. For now, though, I’ll settle for Italy.
Keeping exceptionally low, I follow Stone through the channel. Eventually, after descending three lots of service stairs in utter darkness, he leads us into a wide, well-lit tunnel—one I can stand up in. Along the concrete, cockroaches the size of my palm scatter before squeezing themselves into tiny cracks and crevices. You’d think that for ten thousand dollars entry they’d find a better place to situate themselves other than the pipe system of an abandoned warehouse. All points of money aside, it’s an interesting place. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a system as big as this. These channels belong to an underground storm water system built to allow thousands and thousands of gallons of water through at any one time. If
“Because down here, you have the opportunity to win up to eighty thousand tax-free dollars.”
My ears prick up. Eighty thousand tax-free dollars? He leans in close until the earthy, intoxicating scent of his cologne is the only thing I smell. I never noticed it before, but now it’s over-powering—arousing, even. It seems all this talk about tax-free money is warping my priorities and making my thighs tingle. The dimly lit tunnel we’re standing in doesn’t scare me anymore. Instead, a slither of excitement coils around my spine. With eighty thousand dollars, I can haul my ass to Italy and never look back. I’ve always wanted to move to Italy, maybe work at a petite wood-fire pizza place and live in a small cottage made of stone. Sitting on my porch, I would overlook a vast vineyard while I sucked on feta stuffed olives and drank wine. Yeah, that’s the life I want.
“How?” I ask, suddenly a little eager to venture further underground. “How do you win eighty thousand dollars?”
Stone’s blue eyes brighten and the ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Money hungry, Kitten?”
I scowl, but I’m not about to deny it. If there’s a chance I can make my life a little easier, I’m not going to say no. “I’m starved, and stop calling me Kitten. It’s not my name.”
His slight smirk pulls wide and wolfish before he straightens his shoulders and disappears into the dark tunnel ahead. I wait for a few seconds, expecting him to tell me how to win the money, but he doesn’t. That’s when I realize he isn’t going to wait for me, either, and I jolt into action. I grab my bag and hug it close to my chest. Fear makes a quick reappearance. It twists my stomach and threatens to drag it south at a moment’s notice. I move swiftly and follow his movements, keeping my head low enough to graze the network of pipes above me. Eventually, above the smell of mold and dirt, I smell his cologne and I relax at the thought of having him close.
“There’s a low concrete edge here. Be—”
The concrete edge he’s talking about introduces itself to the top of my skull with an echoing thud. I dip low and rub at my forehead, gritting my teeth to ease the ache.
“Ow,” I snap in a hushed whisper.
“I told you there was a concrete edge,” Stone states, his voice filled with husky laughter. Asshole. “How hard did you hit it?”
I brush the tips of my fingers over the front of my pulsing skull. “I hit it pretty hard, but not enough to leave a bump, I hope.”
I have enough issues with my appearance as it is. I don’t need an egg on the middle of my head to make me feel worse. I’m not bad looking, not really, just…plain. I’ve never colored my hair and I don’t wear make-up. My eyes are a light brown, my lashes are short and my nose is a little on the pointy side. If I had more than eighty thousand dollars, maybe I’d look into new facial features or accentuating some of my strengths. For now, though, I’ll settle for Italy.
Keeping exceptionally low, I follow Stone through the channel. Eventually, after descending three lots of service stairs in utter darkness, he leads us into a wide, well-lit tunnel—one I can stand up in. Along the concrete, cockroaches the size of my palm scatter before squeezing themselves into tiny cracks and crevices. You’d think that for ten thousand dollars entry they’d find a better place to situate themselves other than the pipe system of an abandoned warehouse. All points of money aside, it’s an interesting place. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a system as big as this. These channels belong to an underground storm water system built to allow thousands and thousands of gallons of water through at any one time. If
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